


Cradlesong

by SouldierToTheEnd



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored 2 Spoilers, Emily needs a hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouldierToTheEnd/pseuds/SouldierToTheEnd
Summary: The conspirators have disappeared, Delilah has been defeated, and the throne is once again occupied by its rightful empress. So why does Emily refuse to look him in the eye?





	

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline in Dishonored 2 is pretty vague, so here I’m assuming the entire plot lasted a couple months. If it turns out that it was actually shorter, then suspension of disbelief? Carry on.

Life in Dunwall chugged drearily along. In Delilah’s brief but tumultuous reign, she had directly and indirectly caused the death of at least a quarter of the city’s population. She had gleefully destroyed the infrastructure and let the Tower fall into incredible decay. It was a lot of work to rebuild an empire.

Amazingly enough, the empress didn't complain once. While after five hours of her imperial duties she would get fussy and escape to the rooftops, Emily now instead spent days in her office crafting decrees, or directly ordering the City Watch to help with rebuilding or chase the Hatters back into the dark corners of the city. She didn't appear to be sleeping and the dark shadows under her eyes complimented the new lines on her face. In those short months she had aged, bone tired and world weary.

When she revived Corvo, she helped him settle on the steps before her throne, his body too stiff and exhausted to be of any use. She told him how after the coup, a ship captain named Meagan Foster helped her escape the city, and that they headed to Serkonos to plan their next steps. She told him how she rescued Sokolov from the genius inventor Kirin Jindosh, and how she managed to eliminate Delilah’s allies without spilling their blood. She told him how she managed to trick Delilah and trap the witch into her own painting, oblivious to the fact that Jessamine’s child had outwitted her.

But Emily couldn't exactly meet his eyes and even now, with the danger gone, she avoided him. Maybe it was the trauma of losing everyone at once all over again. Maybe it was the fear that she nearly lost another parent. If Corvo was anyone else, he might have accepted that. But he was the Royal Spymaster, and her Royal Protector. He knew she was hiding something from him.

Corvo wondered where his daughter went.

At the empress’s request he led a group of City Watch into the Rudshore Financial District, to get rid of Hatter remnants and document the damage suffered. They imprisoned gang members with ease and searched condemned buildings.

In an abandoned apartment of a deceased book merchant, he found a shrine hidden in a broom closet. He leaned back and folded his arms, glaring at the Mark painted on the wall. "What? You won't speak to me anymore?" He grumbled. "You used to never shut up."

The Outsider materialized before him with a deadpan expression, although a hint of smirk tugged at his lips. "My dear Corvo, I did not know you missed the sound of my voice."

"Delilah took my Mark."

"I saw." He paused deliberately and tilted his head towards him. "Do you want it back?"

Corvo considered it. While he had never been very fond of the Outsider and the Void, the powers he had been gifted were damn useful. They allowed him to protect Emily countless times. And while Emily was grown and clearly capable of taking care of herself, it never hurt to have an edge.

He nodded.

The familiar burning sensation started on his left hand and the Mark burst into view. He flexed his hand, feeling the power of the Void in his fingertips.

"Suppose you had an interesting show those past few months," he said. "Watching Delilah sweep in and command everything. Doing her best to destroy an Empire." He glanced back up at the Outsider in time to see him narrow his black eyes at him.

"I do not enjoy seeing Delilah take over my realm and steal my power from me, if that's what you're asking."

"She did what?" Corvo stared at him in disbelief, and only then noticed the surliness in the Outsider's countenance. "I thought she wanted to rule over the Empire."

"Not only that," the Outsider corrected. "She wanted unlimited power, and a world tailored to her desires." Then the hint of a smirk morphed into a real one, sly and amused. "Do you mean that your beloved Empress didn't tell you? How fascinating. Your sweet little girl doesn't tell you everything anymore."

Before Corvo could press for more, the Outsider disappeared, faint echoes of black laughter settling in the air. Corvo grimaced before grabbing the rune and pocketing it.

 

* * *

 

In all these years he had never told Emily of his true power. He had figured it did not matter after the Loyalist conspiracy, since she was safe from Hiram Burrows and Admiral Havelock. Besides, it was a conflict of interest. She couldn't effectively work with the Abbey, knowing her father was a practitioner of the Outsider's magic. Now, he wondered how to bring up the subject of Delilah's true goal, without giving away his source of information. He knew that by now Emily must be aware of the fact that the Outsider and the Void were real, since Delilah beheld real, forbidden magic. Though in all honesty, he had hoped Emily would be ignorant of such things. Not just because she could be accused of heresy, but because she shouldn't have to worry about dark forces beyond their control.

It was foolish. She wasn't a child anymore. She proved that when she saved her own Empire. She didn't really need him anymore.

That was a troubling thought. He should be proud that all the training paid off. But Corvo was most content when he was needed.

A week after he regained his Mark, he appeared in her quarters. Feeling like he was intruding, he asked a servant to let Her Majesty know that the Royal Protector was awaiting her in the sitting room.

Instead Wyman appeared. "Lord Protector! It is good to see you are well!"

"Wyman." Corvo stared at them in confusion. He did not hear that the noble had come back. A failing for the Royal Spymaster. "When did you arrive?"

"A few days ago." Wyman's grin quirked to the side. "The Morley government held me hostage—not literally!" they quickly added at the darkening of Corvo's facial expression. "I was worried sick for Lady Emily. If not for her reassuring letter I would have gone mad."

"You... two kept correspondence during the coup?"

"Of course." Wyman frowned. "I was one of the few who knew what the Empress was up to."

"What did she tell you?" Corvo demanded.

"Nothing, really. Just to stay in Morley and that she had a plan to fix it. That was it."

It was easy enough to examine Wyman's face for any trace of deception. They were always too open, too sincere in what they truly thought. Corvo always thought Emily chose them intentionally for that. It was exhausting to be constantly surrounded by those who curried favor through any means.

Corvo nodded curtly. "Where is she?"

"Ah, working, my lord. I'm afraid she sent me here to get rid of you. She wishes to not be disturbed." Wyman gave him an apologetic look.

Corvo merely raised an eyebrow. "Don't take this the wrong way, Wyman, but I doubt you can stop the Royal Protector from seeing his Empress." With that he neatly sidestepped the noble and walked through the doorway Wyman was blocking, hearing a meek "Yes, my lord," from behind.

At the door to Emily's office, he sharply knocked twice before letting himself in.

From behind a large, ornately decorated desk, the Empress gave him a shrewd look before returning to her work, dismissing him before he even spoke. Corvo refused to entertain the thought of how much that surprisingly hurt.

"Emily—"

"You're overstepping boundaries, Lord Protector. I said I wish to not be disturbed and instead you choose to disobey an order."

"Emily, please. You disappear for months, and when you've finally returned you push me away? I don't see you anymore. And everytime I try to ask you about it, you tell me not to worry? That the details don't matter? Clearly they do, since you've changed so drastically!"

She didn't take the bait and for some time the only sound in the room were the scratches of her pen against parchment. She had raised an impenetrable fortress around her, and seemingly had not noticed any of his attempts to break through.

"Wyman's worried about you too."

"They're always worried," she said dismissively, never tearing her eyes away from her paperwork. "Now leave me be."

"But--”

“Please, Corvo. Just go.”

He inhaled sharply. "Very well then, Your Majesty."

"And take Wyman with you. They would only distract me."

He sighed morosely and nodded, taking his leave.

 

* * *

 

Corvo spent the rest of the afternoon with Wyman, seeing that they were both kicked out of the empress's chambers. They sat at a table on a balcony overlooking the gardens, watching the workers clearing out the dead plants. Normally the view would be pleasant and charming, but now its visage helped fuel his dark mood.

Wyman was fiddling around with the teacup in their hands. "Well," they said in a purposely cheerful tone, "I'll admit this wasn't what I was expecting." They smiled sadly. "She promised she would have lunch with me."

"She's acting oddly," Corvo grumbled. "Beyond what these circumstances would justify. Keeping me at a distance."

"Her embraces feel different," Wyman lamented. At Corvo's bemused expression, they hurried to explain, "Hugs, not-not _that_ you're thinking of! Actual hugs!"

"Right," Corvo accepted easily, before attempting to change the subject. "You can't recall anything important she's said to you? Anything of note?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, but I can't think of anything that's helpful. Unless you find the status of her diet and sleeping habits helpful."

"Is she not eating as well?"

"When we had dinner a few nights ago, she refused to eat any pastries, saying it was too sweet. And she couldn't manage more than a few bites of goose. It seems she's gotten accustomed to small meals."

A side effect of being on the run, one he used to know too well. "As for her sleeping?"

"She avoids it as much as she can. And when she can't, it's always nightmares. She," Wyman hesitated, looking away. "She calls out for her mother, in her dreams. She won't talk to me when I try to ask about it."

Again, a reasonable reaction. Stress that caused her to revisit a painful memory.

"Oh! I almost forgot. One time, when she was caught between consciousness and slumber, she started to moan about a boy with black eyes. I couldn't figure anything else, she woke before she could elaborate." Wyman's self-satisfied smile wavered when they noticed the Lord Protector's sudden pallor. "Lord Corvo? Is something the matter?"

Corvo shook his head. "I'm just wondering what that's supposed to mean," he lied.

"It is strange, isn't it? I’ve spent many days pondering over its meaning.” They sighed. “I wish she would only talk to me about it.”

When Corvo bade farewell to the noble, he retired early to his rooms for the evening. It took far too long to drift off into nothingness, but his wish was granted when he next found himself in the Void.

It was different now. Harsher, bleaker, colder, even though the Void had always been merciless. He briefly wondered why, before pushing the thought away. That wasn't why he was here.

"Dear Corvo." He turned to see the Outsider leaning against a twisted sculpture that vaguely resembled a tree. The god was never exceptionally expressive, but Corvo could see that he was curious and amused at the unexpected visit. "You've missed me so soon!"

"You've been visiting Emily," Corvo said, straight to the matter.

The Outsider tilted his head. "Why so surprised? I've visited her as a child as well."

"And I told you then to leave her alone. And I'm telling you now to stop."

The Outsider was silent for a long while. For once he didn't seem to be mocking Corvo. "As you wish. I'll stop seeking her out. Would that make everything as it was before, Lord Protector?"

No, Corvo realized as the weeks passed. Emily kept her distance and would only converse with him as formally as possible if she was required to interact with him at all. And in that time he had finally started to accept the fact that, this time, he really did lose his daughter.

 

* * *

 

On the first day of the Month of Darkness, a grand celebration was held to commemorate the rebuilding of Dunwall. Though there was still much work to be done, such as developing oversight for the other isles’ governments and rooting out dissenters, the court decided an event would be good to uplift the citizens’ spirits. During the day, a procession ran through the streets, banners bearing Empress Emily I’s sharp gaze, commoners shouting and proclaiming their loyalty to Her Highness.

It was a rather frantic affair within the Tower’s walls, servants hustling to and fro. Banquet tables were being set and adorned in the Great Hall, with baked rabbits and grilled fish arranged in a visually appealing manner. The doors leading out to the adjacent garden were thrown open, the weather being an only pleasant chill this time of the year. Patio tables were wiped down and decorated with fresh flowers, and the court musicians were playing a calming tune.

For his part Corvo was taking note of every available entrance into the Tower, conjuring possible scenarios of how exactly the evening could go badly. He had the City Watch and his own spies posted at various key posts, outside and inside, and several guests planned to be his informants. It was the first major event since the coup, as Emily had declined to have a birthday celebration this year. While he wasn’t currently speaking to her, Corvo knew his daughter enough that she wasn’t too keen on having a party, but acquiesced in order to keep Dunwall nobility content. They wanted to feel as though they’ve made progress, that a political disruption wouldn’t happen, at least for a little while.

“Everyone’s ready,” Jameson said, striding up to Corvo who stood in the middle of the garden, surveying the area. Unlike High Overseer Khulan and other associates, Jameson avoided Delilah’s wrath as he was originally away on business in Tyvia, and decided to stay and lay low there as the Abbey launched their offensive. As soon as he heard the witch’s demise, he returned immediately to continue serving the crown. “The Guard’s about to allow guests in.”

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing. Silence. As far as we know, Delilah has no remaining allies. The ones who advocated her reign have all been quietly disposed of as well.”

It was curious how all of Delilah’s notable proponents have either disappeared or suddenly lost interest in politics. Besides Ramsey, who was currently serving a lifelong prison sentence in Coldridge, Jindosh had become utterly uninterested in his previous aspirations, Abele took a sudden interest in helping Stilton improve conditions for miners, and no one had heard anything from Curator Ashworth. And while Corvo knew better, and he knew Jameson certainly knew better, there had been no leads in the intelligence community of what really happened.

Corvo supposed that it was for the best. It would only be disaster if Emily and the Crown Killer were concretely linked.

Jameson continued, “On the small chance something does happen, it’ll be independent of the coup.”

Corvo said, “Check up on the new Captain, see if he needs anything.”

Jameson nodded before walking back into the Great Hall. Corvo was poised to head back inside, when he got the peculiar feeling of being watched. His Mark, hidden under scraps of fabric, hummed, confirming his suspicions.

He turned back to contemplate the garden. From their side the musicians paid him no mind, tuning their instruments. He glanced at the columns lining the center, too high and steep for any normal person to climb up on. He looked up. And there, at the very top, was a masked figure, crouched to be less conspicuous, watching him silently.

Corvo reached for his officer’s-style sword, a shout at the tip of his tongue, before he suddenly recognized the figure.

“Emily?”

He had no idea how she got up there. She could have jumped from the roof running parallel to the columns, but the distance was too great.

He was about to shout at her to come down before a guard arrived abruptly, demanding his attention for a possible break-in. When he glanced back at the column, she had disappeared.

“I thought all entrances were covered,” Corvo said in a flat tone of voice.

“Except for one,” the guard said gravely.

The “entrance” that the guard dragged Corvo to was a vent in the bathroom.

Corvo sighed, pressing his fingertips to his temples, tuning out the guard’s ravings. “Get back to your post.”

“You misunderstand, Lord Protector. A witch could possess a rat and travel through the vents! My uncle told me he knew a guy who saw it happened years ago!”

After enduring his diatribe for another five minutes, Corvo left the guard in the bathroom, the beginnings of a migraine starting to take hold.

 

* * *

 

Besides the scandalous actions of some nobles serving as fuel for court gossip, the party went on uneventfully. No witches were possessing rats this time, as Corvo moved between the guests, wishing them a good evening, and he checked up on his informants. The empress made an appearance at the beginning of the party to greet guests before vanishing. Corvo assumed she had retreated to a private area with her lover, until he saw Wyman by the banquet table, sampling the wine.

Corvo sidled up to a lax Jameson. “And Her Majesty?”

“Retired to her chambers. Claimed she wasn’t feeling too well.”

Corvo doubted that but he nodded anyway. He was too wound up to languidly watch the musicians and the dancers like Jameson, so he excused himself with the intent of patrolling the grounds once again.

On his second loop of patrol, he was stopped outside the tower by a worried guard, except this time around the guard seemed level-headed and with an actual concern.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but I overheard some suspicious guards chatting and I thought you should know.”

“What’s going on?” Corvo said.

“I heard them in the barracks, a group of six. Said they found a hidden passage to steal the tower’s riches. I was about to go inform the captain.”

Corvo waved him off. “I’ll handle it. Go inform Jameson to guard the safe room.”

Like Jameson had said earlier, the chances of an enemy like Delilah coming to cause chaos was miniscule, but it would still be best for the Royal Protector to investigate himself.

There were no signs of any guards at the barracks, as it should be, as all guards this night were to be on high alert and at their posts. He crouched, pressing himself up against the wall of the building, and leaned around the corner.

The group of guards were standing there, semi-hidden by the shade cast by the high walls of the tower, in the alcove at the far corner of the courtyard. They seemed highly agitated and their barely contained harsh whispers were increasing in volume.

“The drain is too small for people, you lug! The information you bought was shit.”

“Listen, we’re already halfway there, we can’t just go home empty-handed.”

“How do you think--”

Hatters, Corvo realized, by their accents and body language. They were fidgeting in their uniforms, tugging at the collars, uncomfortable with its tightness. Must have scavenged the uniforms from corpses during the coup and bided their time.

Corvo clenched his left hand, his Mark humming in anticipation. Six targets all together in one cluster, not likely to be moving away from each other any time soon. He had only two sleeping darts, and he’d prefer to keep them all alive to weed out the remaining Hatters.

Before he could make his move, however, three of the Hatters stiffened at once before dropping, all landing in a giant heap on the ground. The Hatter who had been yelling leaped back with a gasp, drawing up his sword. Another one spotted Corvo and shouted at him, gesturing at him, alerting his companions to the presence of the Royal Protector.

Using the sudden confusion to his advantage, Corvo blinked behind the one Hatter who hadn’t yet moved, swinging his arm around the neck and holding on as the man struggled. The man was out just as the remaining Hatters realized he was behind them. They moved closer to him, wearing twin expressions of determination, their swords unsheathed.

Corvo took out his own and motioned for them to come closer.

One darted forward and swung down his sword; Corvo blocked it and ducked in time to avoid the other blade. He leapt out of the way every time they reached for him, parrying their attacks. When their onslaught slowed for a few precious seconds, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his crossbow, firing a dart at the one closest to him.

The remaining Hatter bellowed in rage and threw the bottle he had at his belt right at Corvo’s crossbow, knocking it out of his hand. He rushed at an unbalanced Corvo, his sword nearly right at his neck, which Corvo managed to block right in time. Their swords locked and the Hatter grinned at him, feeling victorious in the belief that he was about to best the famous Royal Protector.

Corvo saw something, inky blue and purple, in his peripheral vision, but it was moving too fast for him to react. One second the Hatter’s snarling face was right next to his, and the next he was careening backwards through the air with a shout, the darkness wrapped tightly around his middle.

The Hatter landed next to a figure engulfed in the shadows of the barracks, a figure Corvo did not notice until then. The stranger quickly wrapped an arm around the Hatter’s neck before he could retaliate. Mere moments later the criminal fell.

Corvo shifted, readying his sword.

The figure stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight.

Emily.

Corvo watched, stunned, as the inky darkness retreated back into Emily’s left hand before disappearing. From then it was only logical to figure out how the first three Hatters were knocked out. Emily did it, with witchcraft.

He stared at her. Her countenance had become unreadable, like it had once when she was a child, next to a destroyed porcelain statue, claiming to not know how it happened. Her eyes were much colder now.

She made a move as if to step closer to him, before pausing. “I would understand if you decide the best course of action would be to report me to the Abbey.”

His stare turned incredulous. “The Abbey. Me. Report my own empress, my own _daughter_ , to the _Abbey_.”

“I’m a heretic now.” She waved her left hand towards it and he focused on it. And he felt like a fool. He had noticed her gloves earlier, of course, but he didn’t pay it much mind, even though before Emily wore them irregularly. He never entertained their possible significance.

He scoffed, shaking his head. Without much thought given to its possible implications, he pulled back the fabric covering his hand and lifted it up for her eyes. “Well I’m a heretic too.”

He wasn’t expecting her to roll her eyes. “I already know. Besides the endless rumors, I saw you using your ‘gifts’ when Duke Abele came to visit.” She tilted her head in consideration. “Thought Delilah took them from you though.”

“Our generous friend decided to regift them.”

At the mention of the god, Emily’s eyes shuttered. She looked away from him and back towards the tower. “I should return to the party.”

Before she could disappear again, Corvo said, “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me? You’re ashamed about being Marked, so much that you refuse to tell me?”

“Listen, it really isn’t any of your concern--”

“I thought we’ve always agreed to tell the truth, to always be there for each other. We’ve made an oath--”

“When I was ten! I hardly think it to be so binding.”

“I know that being isolated in Karnaca was not easy--”

Emily glared at him. “You don’t know anything about what I went through.”

Corvo wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Instead he gave her a gentle smile. “Emily, I’m the only one who has any _notion_ of what you went through.”

And with that the rigidity in her stance was gone, her body slumped, as if she was too weak to carry her own weight. Her eyes lowered to the earth and Corvo was struck by her sudden submissiveness. She was never one to back down so quickly, to give up so easily.

“When I revived you from stone, I lied,” she said. “I told you I managed to not spill blood when I went after Delilah. But… I did kill. More than once.” She laughed bitterly, harshly. “I even felt righteous in it at first. I… know we spent most of my life preparing for this, but…”

“But it doesn’t prepare you for death,” Corvo finished.

“No, it doesn’t.” She raised her hands up and flexed them, staring at them. “The first night he visited me. Told me that he visited you fifteen years ago, back in the ‘bad old days.’ Gave me this Mark and a Heart.” She looked up then and noticed his stillness. “You had it too, then. Had her.”

He nodded. “Only for a few weeks.”

“I had her for months. Didn’t want to give her up, but I had to, in order to stop Delilah.” She gave him a melancholic smile. “I lost my mother a second time.”

He remembered back to when she rescued him. One moment he had been panicking, trapped by creeping stone, knowing that once again he was unable to protect his empress. The next Emily was right in front of him, unkempt and exhausted, but wearing a relieved expression. After she assured herself he was safe, she would no longer look at him. Her voice was flat beyond the exhaustion. He did not notice at the moment, too bewildered by everything else.

He should have.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Emily said. “I know it wasn’t really her.”

Corvo took a cautious step forward and then another when it looked like she wasn’t about to bolt. When he reached her, he carefully wrapped his arms around her. She let her head fall on his shoulder.

Sometimes he forgot how tall she was.

They stayed like that for some minutes, her shallow breaths turning deeper. At some point she returned the gesture, her arms squeezing him tightly, like back in the Hounds Pit pub, before he would leave for his missions. The silent “Please don’t leave me” hanging between them just like before.

Drawing a shaky breath, she pulled back and said, “I suppose we have a lot to catch up on.”

Thank you, he wanted to say. But he had a feeling if he pushed too hard, she would fly away.

“We should take care of this,” he said instead, nodding towards the bodies sprawled. “They thought they could get into the safe room.”

“Our absence made them overconfident,” she noted. “Don’t worry; they’ll learn.”

She walked back to unconscious Hatter she had taken out earlier, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back over to the pile that was the rest of his gang.

It was at that moment that he noticed the folded sword at her hip. “You’ve had my sword this entire time?” Corvo had spent weeks scouring the tower and its grounds, interrogating guards and servants as to its whereabouts. He had been absolutely angry at the thought of a traitor keeping his sword.

She straightened back up and raised her eyebrows at him, a challenging look in her eyes. “I’m not giving it back.”

Well, better Emily than, say, Ramsey.

They caught the attention of patrolling guards and directed them to imprison the criminals for the night, until the Royal Protector and Spymaster came for a visit the next morning for a little chat. But in the meantime Corvo and Emily returned to the party together, side by side.

Remarkably, after the amount of liquor they’ve imbibed, Wyman was still mostly lucid. They perked up at the sight of the empress and her protector and hurried over to the two.

“Emily, Lord Corvo, this is fantastic, truly marvelous, to see you two together again. I’ve been so worried.” They sniffled, face turning red. “I truly feared you would never reconcile, that we would never again have breakfast together an-and laugh and gossip and--”

“Wyman, we’re in public,” Emily scolded softly. “We can talk in the morning, _after_ you’ve slept this off.”

“But I’m just so happy,” Wyman wailed.

She shushed them.

They rubbed their eyes blearily, wiping away the moisture. “But,” they said, “we are going to have breakfast together, right?”

Corvo looked at Emily with a slight shrug.

Her smile in response was tentative, but he’d take it.

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in this fandom, so I'm rather nervous about this turned out. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
